Barometer Rising: Repost
by The Corpse of One Legato
Summary: Trigun x Invader Zim. A lonely, black-haired young man returns to the quiet little hamlet as war between Irk and Earth looms closer. Who is he, and why is he there? What does Gaz have to do with all of this?
1. The Homecoming

Barometer Rising   
Invader Zim X Trigun   
You do not have to have seen Trigun to understand this. It would merely help. Spoilers for later episodes of Trigun (somewhere around 20-24).   
  
***   
Author notes:   
I own neither Trigun nor Invader Zim. This story is done without authorization   
and without profit.   
I discussed plot/bounced ideas with Rainbound_Angel, Lady Shadowcat, and Kat23. Thanks, guys. Don't expect fast updates. I'm in Organic Chemistry. I own nothing, nothing I tell you, except my ideas. So don't steal them. I know Dib's last name isn't Membrane, but I didn't know what else to make it other than Membrane. So NYA I'm calling him Dib Membrane. *Sticks out tongue at people who would complain* I make a cameo appearance, woo!   
***   
  
Chapter One: The Homecoming   
  
The morning had worn on to the point where it was no longer new and fresh, but   
was still too young to hold the promise of evening. It was late in the month   
of December. The cold air seemed charged with a hundred emotions as well as the   
warming smells of the upcoming holidays.   
  
A young man dressed all in black walked slowly along, staring down at the   
ground. His ankle-length black boots crunched in the frost-hardened grass. It   
rarely snowed in their climate, but the ground would turn white with layers of   
frost in spite of the lack of flakes. His long black trench coat brushed   
against his legs and threatened to trip him when the wind teased at it.   
  
The leafless trees reflected like skeletons in the lenses of his brown wire-   
rame glasses. A few pieces of stringy black hair dangled down into his face,   
getting between the glasses and his eyes. He brushed them away with a few swats   
of his pale hands before jamming them back in his lined coat pockets.   
  
The rest of his black hair would have reached down to his mid-back if it weren't so spiky.   
As it were, it stood up before flopping over at the edges,   
the tips reaching just down past his chin. Truth be told, it framed his long   
face nicely and added shape to a wisp of a boy, but as people are inclined, he   
didn't see it that way.   
  
He wished his hair would just sit down, so that it would draw less attention to   
him. He was the sort who always seemed to draw attention to himself no matter   
how much he tried to avoid it. He guessed that was something he got from his   
father besides his unruly hair. The thing he liked least was when people wanted   
to play with it. He even hated that more than being asked, "Whoa, dude, how do   
you make it stand up like that?"   
  
Well, there was one person he'd willingly let play with it. A smile danced   
across his thin lips for only a moment as he thought of her. She'd come with   
him to finally meet his family. He only hoped they wouldn't frighten her away.   
They were anything but a conventional group of people related by blood and marriage.   
Then again, any woman who could capture this ghost's heart must have   
been something out of the ordinary in and of herself.   
  
He stepped into the darkened hallways of the university. Despite the lack of   
decorations in the name of equal rights, he could smell the spice of holiday   
baking and well wishing all over the hall. He raised his head and took it in as   
one deep breath. It was so good to finally be back home.   
  
His shoes clicked hollowly on the tiled ground, wet with slush being carried in   
from outside and melted off of shoes. Everything seemed to have been decorated   
in shades of brown and cream, from the woodworking to the paint on the walls   
themselves. The brown halls were nearly devoid of life, other than occasional   
whispering coming out of a professor's office. He passed the student lounge to find only two students there.   
  
They had a game of Go spread out before them. The pale blonde in a leather jacket was winning over the heavier girl with multi-spotted hair and dark red glasses. The television was on. A young woman with   
skin that looked slightly greenish, perhaps from bad reception, was reading   
stock prices. It looked like the market was in trouble once again.   
  
He walked all the way down the hall, wishing he'd worn something thicker than a   
gray turtleneck over his torso. The wind seemed to be coming in from cracks   
that had been long neglected, as this was the teacher's quarters, and they all   
seemed to own space heaters to keep out the chill.   
  
He paused in front of a heavy oak door with deep chips in the staining. A glass   
window, treated so that it couldn't be seen through, loomed from the middle of   
the door up to where the door met the doorframe. Written on it, in yellow   
letters that had begun to peel off only recently, were three names. He reached   
out, his long fingers curled up, and knocked lightly on the glass.   
  
A moderately tall, thin woman wearing thick blue goggles opened the   
door. "Yes?" she asked, her voice betraying a lisp that even years of speech   
therapy hadn't completely eliminated. "What, you don't recognize your own son?"   
he asked, eyes glittering with good humor.   
"Alex…?"   
  
~   
  
40 years prior   
  
~   
Dib Membrane walked alone; his shoulders slumped forward as if he   
carried the world on his back and not just his black backpack. His head was   
  
down, the long spikes of his hair hanging behind his head. Everyone said it was   
big, but… it wasn't! His head was just as normal in size and everyone else's.   
  
True, it did contain more thoughts than the average child, but that did little   
to comfort Dib. The other students neither saw nor cared about his private   
thoughts. They simply saw the freak, the overly pale kid in black who couldn't   
run or play kick ball as well as they could. So they left him on the fringes   
of child society, the most painful banishing that anyone could ever receive in   
their lives.   
  
Most children were too young to rationalize, to realize how lucky they were not   
to be one of the sheep. Dib was different. He considered himself a visionary.   
He lost himself in his own world of aliens so that he wouldn't have to think   
about how he was the alien. Not an alien from another planet, but an alien in   
the cruelty of playground life. When your life hurts so much that living feels   
like dying, you find things to obsess about, to keep your mind from wandering   
back to how much pain you're really in.   
  
Most children in the hallway ignored him. He wasn't worth snickering over, but   
he was still worth the occasional stare. A couple of younger kids moved to get   
out of his way as he silently stalked past, but most didn't notice or care if   
he was alive. After all, he was simply "crazy Dib." You only paid attention to   
crazy Dib if you were feeling down in the dumps and needed something to lift   
your spirits with.   
  
He slammed his locker, letting the dull thud echo off the walls and through his   
head. Day in and day out, the same dull routine. There had to be something more   
to life than this, but what? He'd tell everyone Zim was an alien, Zim would   
deny it, and then he'd stop some insane plan of Zim's to conquer the Earth.   
Well… it was still better than nothing, even if it did make everyone think he   
was crazier than they'd ever thought he was before.   
  
Dib shivered a bit as he sat in class. The windows had cracks in them that the   
school couldn't or didn't afford to fix. He was grateful for his thick coat. A   
few of the kids behind him, refusing to wear anything but trendy tank tops,   
shivered violently and tried to ignore the fact that their lips and fingertips   
were turning blue.   
  
Ms. Bitters was giving some lecture up front about how human overuse of   
resources had doomed the entire plant to a slow "doom, doom, doom," when the   
doorway flew open. Mrs. Rudstand stood there, gasping for breath. The top of   
her polo shirt hung open. Her normally immaculate ash blonde hair hung down in   
wild locks around her shoulders. Her glasses were all the way on the end of her   
nose, dangling and threatening to fall off. She grasped at the doorframe,   
clinging to it like her life depended on it.   
  
"Turn on your television! Turn on your television!" she cried, then was gone   
down the hallway. Only the sounds of her sneakers echoing remained as lingering   
proof that she'd even paused there.   
  
"I can't even teach a class in peace anymore," Ms. Bitters growled, digging out   
the remote that operated the badly battered Sony. She kept that under lock and   
key, as she didn't feel that television had a place in teaching. It was another   
thing that would only "doom children's brains to premature rot," if Dib could   
remember the lecture correctly. Then again, it wasn't hard to remember the same   
thing repeated multiple times.   
  
The screen seemed to be mostly fuzz, with a man's voice occasionally cutting   
through the snow.   
  
"Attention. Three large asteroids detected heading towards Earth current speed…   
twelve hours… impact," the voice managed to choke out. "Giving off magnetic   
adiation… communication satellites, telescopes… all down… can't get through the   
radiation. Impact zone over… New England… 30 mile wide crater… ash…" Then,   
suddenly, the voice became clear. "If everyone's going to die, why am I sitting   
here reading the news? Jessi, get over here without your clothes on in thirty   
seconds or less!" Then, the voices returned to nothing but static.   
  
Kids who had seen Armageddon where whispering and poking one another. Those who   
hadn't certainly wouldn't admit to it, so they were doing the same. They were   
just a bit fuzzier in the amount of details they used.   
  
"Well, it looks like I was right. All of you are doomed," Ms. Bitters commented   
dryly. "Since there's no point in teaching you anymore, as the sun will be   
choked out and we'll all be dead from starvation within a few weeks, class is   
dismissed so that you can spend the rest of your day crying and whining or   
contemplating the taste of human flesh when you're forced into cannibalizing   
the dead."   
  
The class was out of the room faster than would have seemed possible, some of   
them choosing to exit via the windows instead of the door. Finally, only Dib   
and Zim remained. The big headed boy with the spiked black hair stared at the   
green-skinned child with enormous eyes.   
  
"Oh, just do it," Dib sighed.   
  
Zim broke into hysterical laughter, pointing at Dib and doubling over as he   
quickly depleted his air supply. After his laughter had died down into hiccups,   
he stood upright. "Looks like I win," he announced, wiping a way a few drops   
of laughter-caused Irken tears. "Those meteors will cause a cloud of ash to   
rise up, blocking out the sun and destroying life on your planet, and I'll   
return home as a war hero. See-ya, Dib-human!" Zim called, sauntering out of   
the room with a casual flip of his gloved hand.   
  
"I hate that alien," Dib sighed emotionlessly. His mouth felt dry. There was   
nothing left to swallow, and nothing left to say. No, he couldn't think like   
that. Dib shook his head vigorously. Whether they knew it or not, he'd saved   
the Earth from Zim numerous times. He could certainly save it from an asteroid.   
Dib ran home, praying the whole way that he could finish the necessary repairs   
to get Tak's abandoned ship in the air… and fast.   
  
~   
To Be Continued   


(Note: This was written WELL before the release of The Xmas Special.)


	2. Alex

Author's Notes: The only things we've ever told about Alex in Trigun is that he 

had very spiked up hair, nearly curly, and something else that I won't tell 

you because I don't want to ruin the fic for those of you who are not "Trigun- 

nies." The thing which Purple speaks with in here is from the Trigun mythos. It 

was pointed out to me that I should note that I didn't invent them. In this 

fic, there is more than one species of plant, hence the appearance difference 

from the plants in Trigun. 

I'm listening to the music from Serial Experiments Lain as I write this, most 

specifically the Cyberia Mix for the first sequence. 

Can anybody reading this tell that I'm currently in the process of watching "X" 

and "Ceres: The Celestial Legend?" 

Ah yes, fan art for this fic: 

Purple and a Control Brain: - bin/S7SDB/DisplayImg.pl?INO=204512 

Irken Plant: 

~ 

Purple walked in a field of something soft that was white, pink, blue, and gray 

all at the same time. There was nothing in sight, no buildings, no ships, no 

life. There was only the wind, roaring so loud he couldn't have heard any other 

noises even if there had been something to make them. He could feel his robe 

blowing against his legs as he walked, not hovered, but truly walked across the 

frozen ground. 

Nothing was in the sky or on the skyline but shades of gray streaked with 

occasional white lines, not clouds but only lines. Whitish flakes were falling 

from the sky and landing on his skin. He thought they were… what do you call 

frozen liquid from the sky? Snow? He thought it was snow, but it didn't burn. 

When he reached out to touch the flake, it rubbed into his skin and turned gray 

against thin screen scales 

That's when he realized it wasn't snow at all. It was ash. Ash from something 

burning, turning the horizon red and orange and licking the sky with yellow 

flames. He didn't have to approach the flames to know what they were burning: 

corpses. The ash of corpses was falling down on his skin. 

When an Irken died with high honors, they were wrapped in the flag and launched 

into the sun to rejoin the sun goddess. Burning a corpse in a plain fire, not 

sanctified by ceremony, was the blasphemous, dirty version of that. You only 

burned the bodies of those you were ashamed of, those society had rejected and 

walked upon until they took their final breaths. You only burned the bodies of 

the unwanted. Yes, somehow, Purple knew that this particular flame burned to 

consume all Irkens. 

He knew she'd be coming. Indeed, the very ground beneath him seemed to open up, 

reflecting lifeless eyes back at the empty sky, which slowly grew black, 

darkening piece by piece. Her eyes were so large and so deep blue that he 

hardly believed she was real. Her skin was a pale, pale blue, so translucent 

that he could see every vein, bone, and heartbeat beneath it. Long, feathered 

blue wings flew out behind her back, stretching upward until they melted into 

the very sky itself. She had a mark, like a keyhole, in the middle of her 

forehead. 

She stood at least twice as tall as he did, the few ragged sheets of white she 

wore blowing around her. It looked like the filmy white semi-liquid found in 

the innards of eggs. Other than those rags she was naked, but that seemed 

unimportant at the time. She didn't need clothes. He would never think of her 

sexually. 

She was so beautiful that he was never able to speak to her, no matter how many 

times she should appear to him. He didn't have the words to speak with. That's 

what frustrated him the most. He could only listen to the sound of his own 

clothes blowing in the wind. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes 

shining with distress and fresh tears. He wanted to ask her what drew her 

agony, but he couldn't. Then she found it in herself to tell him. She said, "I 

am the cause of all this pain." 

Yet once again, Tallest Purple found himself awaking in the middle of the 

night, clutching his sheets to his head and sweating profusely enough to dampen 

the pillow. His heart was racing in his chest like he'd just run a marathon. 

He'd torn the sheets again in his fear. He noted this silently to himself as he 

leaned forward, launching into another round of deep, throaty coughing. He 

grasped at where his lungs would be were they on the outside of his body, 

ripping straight through his nightgown and tearing his skin. Blood dripped onto 

his fingertips as he doubled over, shaking violently as everything inside him 

seemed to force itself into his throat. 

Red was drawn in from the next room by the sound of Purple's spasms. "You 

shouldn't be up," he commented dryly when he saw Purple gripping the bedpost to 

pull himself out of the bed and into a shaky stance on the floor. His night 

robe, which was far longer than it ever needed to be, trailed in a silken pond 

across the floor behind him. It had the color and texture of a petal fallen 

from a flower. "You're not strong enough to be out of bed yet." 

"I saw her again," he weakly answered, not moving from his position beside the 

bed. He looked like a smeet attempting to walk for the first time. 

Red made it to Purple's side in time to keep his companion from falling. "We 

know who she is." He paused in his speech, letting Purple back down onto the 

ruffled lavender sheets. Dark stains had spread near the rips; he'd bled on 

them. "She chose you to call for help. Not me. They always said that you were 

the chosen one," he said bitterly, "That's why there are two of us, after all," 

he quietly added, then swished out of the door. 

Purple debated calling after him, but chose to lay back once again, shutting 

his eyes and biting back the agony swelling under his ribcage. Everything 

seemed to be falling apart at the seams. In his mind, he visualized sand 

shifting through his fingers like the shards of his life. 

The doors stood as tall as three or four tallests, and took four small Irkens 

each to pull open. Each door was made of a heavy, leaden material with a 

slightly bluish sheen to it. The left door was decorated with mythological 

scenes of Irken creation, featuring several of the Gods and Goddesses in the 

process of breathing life into the first Irken as they formed it out of clay. 

The right door was embellished in images of the Irken Gods showing the first of 

their new creations the stars. The words above the door read "Manifest 

Destiny," the idea that Irkens were meant to control all of the galaxies. After 

all, the Gods told them that they were the chosen ones. 

Red leaned silently over and grasped Purple's shaking claw, steadying it. 

Purple looked gratefully over at Red, giving a slight squeeze back in response. 

He was still somewhat weak from the illness that had been ravaging his slender 

body. 

"Are you ready to do this?" Red asked. 

"No," was all Purple said, continuing to hold onto the more brazen tallest for support. 

"Come on," Red chided, releasing Purple and pushing him back upright. "She'll be waiting for us." 

The doors squeaked back on rusty hinges. The inside walls of the room 

were covered in thick silver wires, reflecting only blue light. The actual 

walls couldn't be seen for the twisting wires spreading outward. A narrow grate 

cut through the middle, forming a winding path up to a tall, gray column with a 

clear object lying within. If a human had been allowed to view the object in 

the center of the room, they would have equated it with a light bulb. As it 

were, this room and the images within were allowed to be viewed only by the 

eyes of a few chosen ones and tallests. 

On top of the column rested a large, brown metal sphere with a round red glass 

lens attached to it. The lens had several rusted black triangular plates of 

metal behind it. When Red pulled Purple into the room and the doors slowly 

squeaked shut behind them, the triangular plates began to pull back with a 

noise like a camera lens focusing. White light flowed out and through the red 

glass, lighting the room in a bloody tone. The wires covering the walls within 

were covered in even more Irken mythology. Most of the stories had been 

forgotten as the species had made the eventual switch from magic and religion 

to the worship of science and power. The etched figures seemed to have been 

frozen in the middle of screams, unable to tell their stories to the outside 

world any longer. 

The "eye" of the sphere twisted itself, looking down to see whom would come to 

disturb its rest. The Master Control Brain took only moments to evaluate the 

little creatures before it as the "twin" tallests. It was uncertain how to 

react. It had never been fond of either of them, but it was pleased that they 

had come to see it without being called. It always swore that as simply a 

robot, it didn't need companionship, but spending centuries alone and asleep in 

the cold could make anything want to view someone else. 

"Why have you come to see me?" it asked, speaking to them directly through 

their ID packs. They heard it as voices in their heads, as it had no actual 

vocal chords with which to speak. In this respect, it was unlike the lesser 

control brains. "Is something wrong?" 

"I've been having odd dreams. I dreamed that the plant was hurt," Purple 

responded. "I dreamed that she was dying." 

"She's fine," the brain cut him off coldly. "But, if you don't believe me, I 

will let you see her." A doorway slid open on the column, letting a black 

square appear before the two tallests. Red stood up before Purple, who was 

still rather shaky. The control brain extended a wire, grasping Red by the 

shoulder. "Not you, him," she sternly informed Red. 

Red opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again when searing white pain 

ripped through his pak, a small electrical gift from the brain to let him know 

who was really in control of the Irken race. Red rubbed his pack, fighting back 

the urge to hiss or swear at her. Such an action would require dire punishment, 

even if there was truly no way he could keep his inner thoughts from her. He 

was surprised she didn't punish him for simply thinking hostile thoughts of her. 

Red resented the control brain. That much was obvious to at least Purple, if 

not to other Irkens around him. He wanted absolute control of the Irken race. 

He didn't like being constantly over-ruled or bullied by her. He didn't like 

someone being able to hold a sword over his head by a single thread. Still, it 

was his job to protect her. Protecting the control brain had been the most 

important mission of the tallest since the control brains had come into 

existence, when the first Irken merged so far with technology that they could 

no longer live without it. How far the mighty ones had fallen. They no longer 

controlled their electronics; the technology controlled them. 

Purple patted Red lightly on the arm before removing the power packs from his 

wrists and setting them down on the ground. Taking a deep breath, he entered 

the silver column. He glanced back at Red with a look of loss on his face 

before the door vanished, cutting them off from one another. 

The inside of the column was slightly chilled, with dials and panels stuffed 

full of information spread out on every side. The light bulb itself was 

the "plant" of which they'd spoken, or rather, the power plant. The wires 

leading out from the bulb powered the Master brain firstly and more 

importantly, giving off its excess energy to power the rest of the Massive. If 

the power plant should ever fail, and the control brain should grow cold from 

lack of energy, the entire Irken race would die. 

Such is the price of living with our progress, thought Purple as he laid his 

bare claws against the glass. It was cool to the touch, not like one would have 

expected a power plant to be. It was so pleasantly cool, just the right 

temperature, that he laid his head against it and shut his eyes. His mind went 

straight to black, and he nearly fell into the darkness of sleep. 

Light touched the outsides of his eyelids, causing them to spring open. There 

she was, right on the other side of the glass, her hands pressed against his. 

Her eyes were open, shining brightly with a blue light unparalleled by any 

color of paint. She looked exactly as she had in the dream. The white gel that 

provided her clothing hung back in ribbons, twirling around her wings like a 

stairway into the sky. She smiled gently, continuing to press her hands against 

the glass, which was the only thing separating the two of them. 

Like the control brain, she did not speak with words. Unlike the control brain, 

she spoke directly into his mind. "Tell me about Earth," she said softly. 

Purple jerked backwards, unable to stop her from reading the surprise in his 

eyes. "You know… of Earth?" he asked back, not speaking but instead simply 

thinking the words. She knew as long as their hands remained together, she'd 

hear him. 

"I've heard everyone whisper about it, and the transmissions of Zim. What is 

Earth like?" she asked. Purple was unsure of what to answer, so he simply 

looked away from her. She looked Irken, but it was obvious from the blue tint 

and the transparency of her skin that she was not. She pressed her hands 

against the glass harder as he looked away, eager for an answer. 

"It's a very dangerous planet. Most of the surface is covered in deadly acid, 

and the creatures there are made out of products that can fuse to an Irken's 

skin and cause blindness or even death. The planet is run by," he sounded like 

he was going to gag, "pure organics, and mammals at that. I'd be hard pressed 

to call it a primitive planet." 

"I've been told that water is beautiful, that it shines with the light of the 

sky, and you can see through it like glass, but it moves and waves like a 

living thing. I want to see water," she said softly. "I want to see an ocean. 

Not just on a view screen, but I want to stand beside it and hear the sound of 

the waves, even if I can't touch them." 

"That's impossible," Purple replied. "The only way for you to see an 

ocean would be to take you outside of the ship, and if we tried to do that, 

you'd die." 

"It's not impossible," she replied quietly. "Come back here late tonight. I 

need some time to generate it." 

"Generate… it? What is it?" Purple asked, narrowing an eye in suspicion. 

"Please, don't doubt me," she said. Only the tips of her claws rested against 

the glass now. She was slowly floating away, feeling herself getting detached 

from him. She'd wasted too much energy, put too much of herself into forming 

words for him to hear. She had things that needed to be done. She left the 

young tallest alone by himself, staring at empty blue. It was like she'd never 

been there at all. 

~ 

7 months later 

Dib threw his backpack down on the floor of the living room in his house, 

grabbed a soda out of the fridge, and picked up an arc welder from this 

father's lab. Gaz was nowhere in sight. She's probably out looting stores with 

the rest of the crazed mob, he thought with a slightly disgusted shrug. She'd 

always said that she wanted to take part in a riot some time just so she could 

see what someone would do if she poked their eyeballs out. 

The amount of violence he'd seen on his way home had been ridiculous. Cars had 

been set on fire, most of the storefronts were smashed and the merchandise torn 

out and carried off. Why did people tend to revert to animals when they thought 

there was no chance of being caught, no repercussions? Didn't anyone have 

morality for morality's sake anymore? 

Pulling on a pair of dark goggles to protect his eyes from the danger of the 

flame, he threw down his trench coat and headed out back. It was part 

polyester, and only idiots weld in synthetic clothing. It was too easy to 

ignite, and would melt right into your skin if you happened to do so. Not that 

his burns would matter if the world really were coming to an end, but Dib 

wasn't the sort to believe in doomsday prophecies, despite all the things he 

did believe in. 

He stepped around into the unused garage, empty since his mother's death. She'd 

been the only family member to make use of a car, as the professor always took 

a taxi at the studio's expense. It was well known that he hated driving. Dib 

wondered if it was because he'd finally have to take off his goggles to see to 

drive. Dib couldn't honestly think of a time when he'd seen his father without 

them. 

He jumped in surprise when he found Gaz sitting on top of Tak's ship. The 

control panel was open, spread out before her, as was her Game Slave 2. She was 

using thick and thin wires of all colors to connect the two together. 

"What are you doing?" Dib cried, his eyes wide behind his smudged glasses. She 

was messing with HIS ship. 

"Getting this thing off the ground," she scoffed. "Which is more than I can say 

for you. Tak took the controls with her when she ejected. I'm giving it a new 

set of controls." 

"Why would you do that?" Dib asked. "Do you honestly care about the Earth?" 

"No, but the Game Slave 3 is set to come out in a month, and I've been waiting 

too long for it to let the world end now. Is that my soda?" she asked, 

partially cracking open an eye as she stared at Dib. 

Dib looked down at the blue-green can. "Doesn't have your name on it," he 

muttered, setting it down on the table. What a time for his sister to take an 

interest in his hobbies, he thought bitterly as he sat down and began doing the 

remaining necessary welds to hold the sides of the ship together. 

To Be Continued… 


End file.
